


A Court of Lies and Starlight

by HerEvilRoyalty



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen, Inner Dialogue, lucien needs a slap, rhysand is awesome, tamlin sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10501053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerEvilRoyalty/pseuds/HerEvilRoyalty
Summary: Feyre slowly readjusts to the Spring Court/Hell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually wrote this last June...but yea, never bothered to post it. And for some reason, I decided to now *shrugs*

_I hate it here._

**_I know._ **

_I hate him._

**_I know that too._ **

_I love you. - If you say I know, I swear I'll-_

**_I love you too._ **

* * *

Small moments of mental communication with Rhys was all that was keeping Feyre sane. That...that beast, Tamlin, he made her skin crawl, fire and darkness rippling just beneath the surface. Itching to be unleashed, upon him and his entire damned Court.

She kept to herself mostly, spending the majority of her time in the manors gardens, claiming she needed the peace, the solitude. To readjust, to extinguish all the misery of the past few months. Ha. The best months of her entire existence, and she'd been stolen away from it. Stolen away from her mate, her High Lord, her equal, her home. She, the High Lady of the Night Court...pulled away, hidden away. Back into the pretty cage of Spring.

Tamlin brought her something new everyday. A new gold-gilded easel. The finest silk dresses. Gold jewellery, with gems the size of her fist. Oil paints, pastels, charcoal...as if they could ever rival the colours, the materials found in the Rainbow of Velaris. Velaris...the city of Starlight. Her city, her home...she missed it, the smells, the colours, the people...it hurt her to think of her family. Amren, Mor, Azriel, Cassian...Rhysand. It hurt her, not being able to see him, smell him, touch him.

He must have felt her melancholy, as she felt a soft buzz of love and longing through their hidden bond.

'Feyre!'

She jumped, her hackles rising, darkness swirling around her hands. She had to take a deep breathe, to calm the rage yearning to be set free.

'Feyre!' Tamlin bellowed again.

Feyre, begrudingly, stepped out from behind the rose bushes she had been practising behind. If Tamlin noticed the extreme dip in temperature, he didn't mention it. Feyre let her docile, doe-eyed mask fall back into place. Making sure to appear extra meek, as she looked upon the man ( ** _beast_** , Rhys whispered into her mind) she was supposed to love. 'Yes, Tamlin...?'

'I have to go away, just for a few days. Lucien is staying here, to protect you.' He trailed a finger down her face, 'You look beautiful today, I knew you'd love that dress.'  
Feyre fought the urge to snap his finger, to shred the pale yellow monstrosity he had insisted she wear, to unleash her powers and reduce the damned Spring Court to dust.

'Will you be gone long? Perhaps I could accompan-'

'No. Feyre, no...not...not this time, I need you here. I won't be gone long, I promise.' He moved in to kiss her, Feyre ducked her head, but not before catching the flash of annoyance in Tamlin's eyes.

He instead kissed the top of her head, 'Why don't you go to the gallery? Paint me something beautiful, perhaps? You've been in a dark and colourless world too long.' He spared her one last glance, before he stalked away. Most likely off to make more trecherous deals with Hybern's tyrant.

Claws of shadow and night washed over the entire garden Feyre stood in, ravaging every rose in the area. She seethed, the darkness she commanded became wolves of shadow and ice, stalking the area, while their mistress damned the High Lord of Spring.

He, Tamlin, _the beast_. The dead fae walking, he had been trying to kiss her, daring to initiate intimacy with her, for weeks now. She had managed to avoid him, or to deter him each time. But she knew it was only a matter of time...

She felt a snarl, a wave of rage and anger from Rhys.

**_Hold his mind. Implant false memories. You've skirted his defences, you can weave and alter his thoughts as you please! He's a puppet, Feyre, take hold, contro-_ **

_It feels-_

**_It's not a violati-_ **

_As if I care if it's a violation or not!_

**_But Tarq-_ **

_Tarquin was different, Tarquin is a good man. Tamlin...Tamlin is not. The idea of being near his poisonous thoughts makes me sick, Rhys._

**_I worship you, my Queen._ **

_As you should, High Lord._

She swore she heard the echo of his laughter in the night-touched garden.

* * *

Lucien acted strangley around her now, she watched him carefully, cataloguing his every action, every word. She was sure he knew her true allegiance. But she also knew that if he dared to move against her, she held the power of Elain's favour. Lucien's mate was Feyre's ace, she hated using her sister...but this was a war of lies and deceptions.

Lucien was walking alongside her, both pretending to admire the gardens, both pretending that they were as they once were. Friends, allies. She hated this cowed version of Lucien almost as much as she hated Tamlin. The only thing that kept her from taking hold of Lucien's mind was the memory of how he used to be...defiant, strong-willed. That Lucien would have been a worthy suitor for her sister. This shell, wearing her old friends face, wasn't worthy of Nesta's ire, nevermind Elain's affections.

'You even walk differently now...' Lucien murmured.

Feyre wouldn't have heard him if she still had mortal hearing, 'Oh...?' she replied, uninterested.

'You...glide. There's...I don't know...there's an assurance in you now, that never used to be there...'

'Or...perhaps it's just how weak and eager you are to bend the knee to Tamlin, and in comparison, I appear so different.'

Lucien bowed his head, refusing to acknowledge her.

Feyre halted, Lucien walked another few steps, before coming to a stop himself. Months of anger bubbled within Feyre, until she couldn't keep her mouth closed any longer.

'You were my friend, Lucien! You were supposed to be my friend! You let him...you let him damn near kill me! You stood by, every single day...you watched as I faded away, and you did nothing! Nothing, Lucien!'


End file.
